


Not a stranger

by Miss_Kitten



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild Fluff, Thorin's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Kitten/pseuds/Miss_Kitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader, a half elf with healing abilities, joins the company with a hope to find a place among the dwarves. After getting nothing but hatred there and receiving the same from elves, Thorin realizes his mistake and finds himself caring for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a stranger

You slid down against the wall and eventually sat on the cold ground of your cell in Mirkwood’s dungeons, shutting your eyes close as you were trying to even your breathing. You could not let them see you cry. Not elves. Not your companions. Though you doubted any of them paid attention to you.

Since you started to grow up, since your body began to change from chubby childish one, you had noticed that you did not look like your friends. You were taller, your body slightly slimmer and your hair was straight and silky. Inhuman, as one of your childhood friends told you with hatred hinted in his voice.

And only when your mother had found you wrapped in blankets on your bed and crying your eyes out, she had confessed that your father was an elf. And that was why you were looking like that. She had never let you feel unaccepted – she loved you with all her heart and was happy when you discovered that you had inherited some of elvish abilities.

You were the best healer your small village had ever had and, out of sudden, none of your former friends, who once despise you for being different, had issues with coming to you for help with an illness or a wound. You learnt then to never trust humans – they were fast to judge and turn their back at someone who was not looking like them, who had skill they did not posses.

And so you had decided to leave your home to seek folk who would understand you. Your mother did not stop you – you had never made a rushed decision and she knew that if you decided to depart it would be because you did not feel fit there. You had promise to write her as much as you would be able to and you were keeping that promise so far. But those elves had taken all your belongings and you could only hope that your mother would not be too worried about not receiving next letter from you anytime soon.

On your way to whatever place you would chose to stay in, you met a wizard, Gandalf the Grey he called himself. He was heading the same way as you and he offered you his company. You agreed, you had missed being around others. Gandalf appeared to be a reliable person and so one evening you had told him about your skills. He was fascinated, excited and you beamed when he proposed you a place in a company he was forming for a quest. You did not hesitate to say yes, hoping that the others would accept you just as Gandalf did.

And once again, you were wrong. Only Bilbo, the poor hobbit who was thrown into the middle of events, gave you a second look and tried to get to know you better. The dwarves only looked at you with either curiosity or aversion, the leader of your company, Thorin didn’t do much to hide his evident unwillingness to take you with them, even despite your useful abilities. ‘We already have a healer,’ he had said, almost spat when Gandalf introduced you and agreed only after wizard’s assurance that your help would be needed at some point.

You had never felt so alone in your entire life. The dwarves were barely talking to you, apart from commands and occasional requests for your assistance they were ignoring you. And, for some odd reason, the ignorance Thorin was showing you had pained you more than anything before. There was something in him that drew you to him, yet you had met nothing but a wall and so you stopped trying. Evenings you were spending with Gandalf or, sometimes, with Bilbo as he too felt out of place among the dwarves. He was kindhearted and you were happy to have a friend in him.

Yet, you longed for more. For understanding. For acceptance. For a sense of belonging somewhere. For being a part of some community. You found it in Rivendell, in a way at least, yet you knew the elves there would not be pleased with you for staying there too long. They seemed reluctant to let you into their home.

So, when you found out that you would be passing by another elvish realm, you were impatient to meet its inhabitants. Maybe they would accept you, maybe they would finally give you a sense of home, a place you could live in without being ignored and hated.

And yet again, you misplaced your hope and was let down. Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood, after a quick glimpse at you, mocked your mother for being a fool to trust an elf with her love, stating that elves were taking human lovers only to have fun. He did not even give you a chance to tell that your father was forced to leave your mum and ordered to never contact her again. You weren’t even sure he was aware that you were born.

Then, after his tirade about how stupid your mother was, King Thranduil had called you an abomination, a hybrid which wasn’t supposed to exists, a thing both elves and humans would only hate, never accept. Luckily for you, he spoke those words after the dwarves were thrown into their cells, so they did not hear it. At least you hope they didn’t.

To be frank, you did not care whether you had audience or not. Thranduil had taken your hope and crashed it mercilessly, and only by a miracle you had managed to stop tears from falling until you reached your prison.

_____

**Thorin’s POV**

I was aware of her presence in the cell next to mine. I heard what Thranduil had said to her, that spiteful speech, full of venom and hatred.

And may Mahal smash his hammer on my head if we weren’t the same.

From the day Gandalf brought her, I could not shake off the feeling that she would only cause trouble. I did not want her amongst us. And that was only because she was a half elf.

I didn’t care if she was kind or not. I did not pay attention to any of her stories, like Bilbo did. I did not listen to his reasons or Gandalf’s. I liked her not. I didn’t even try to understand her or give Y/N a chance to change my opinion.

I felt forced to take her with us and so I remained stubborn about my thoughts about her.

One night, however, when Y/N and Bilbo were on a watch and I could not sleep, I was a witness of something wonderful. I had seen her gift. Bilbo did not mention it earlier, only then, to Y/N, but he had an ugly scratch on his forearm. He asked her if she would be so nice as to heal it. With a gentle smile she agreed.

Then I saw her taking some herbs out of a small bag she was carrying hung on her belt. She crumbled the leafs a little and placed them on Bilbo’s wound, her fingers hovering over it. And then, she began to sing. And, by my beard, I had never heard anything sweeter. I could feel the air filling with magic and, much to my surprise, it did not sicken me. I was amazed. Awestruck. But I did not show how much it affected me. Or how much it stroke me when I realized that her people hated her for what she could not change.

She was unique and everything unique terrified and repulsed those, who did not understand it.

For a moment I thought that she would stay in Rivendell, but when she came back from a private conversation with Lord Elrond with her head hung low and I knew she was rejected once more. It angered me. Even we, dwarves, were shown more hospitality than Y/N, but I did nothing about it. I was afraid my companions would not understand and that I would lost respect. I could not afford it, not at the beginning of our journey.

But now, we were in Mirkwood. Imprisoned, yes, but closer to Erebor. I was sure they would forgive me if I offered some comfort to a member of our company.

“Y/N,” I called quietly when her sobs reached my ears. She was probably trying to mute them, but I was too close to not hear it, “Y/N, please, don’t cry.”

A bitter laughter was heard from her cell.

“As if you care, Thorin. Mind your own business, will you?”

My gut twisted with guilt and shame, but I swallowed and tried again.

“I do care, despite what you are thinking. What he said was not right, lass.”

“But you treat me the same way he did. All of you,” she stated coldly, her voice emotionless and suddenly I felt an urge to take her into my arms, I did not know why. I wanted to make her feel better, to assure her she was special and one of a kind and there was nothing bad about it.

“Y/N, I apologize for making you feel unwanted among us. And I know we should at least give you a chance, show you a bit of acceptance, but, truth be told, we – I was scared. I couldn’t bring myself to treat you differently, not when I was expected to be a fearful leader of dwarves, and dwarves are stubborn and we rather shut ourselves from other races than willingly let a stranger in.”

“But I’m not a stranger, Thorin. I was at the beginning, in Bilbo’s house, but not now. I shared the road with you, you could at least try to-“ her voice broke and I pinched the bridge of my nose. How could I console her when I couldn’t reach to her?

“Forgive me, Y/N,” I whispered shamefully and she sobbed. I came closer to the bars of my cell in hope to glimpse into hers and I saw her there, with her knees brought to her chest, her arms wrapped around them and the expression on her face and pain in her eyes made my heart stop beating. How could someone so beautiful be so broken? And how could I broke her?

“Forgive me, please. I did not mean to. I was wrong, I see it now.”

“It’s okay, Thorin,” she said after a minute of silence with a sad smile spreading on her lips. I felt relieved, a little bit.

“Can I offer you something?”

“Only if it’s something else than spite.”

I sighed and forced my lips to curl in a smile. She seemed surprised to see it.

“How would you feel about staying in Erebor after we reclaim it? We will send for your mother, of course.”

Y/N stood up and leaned against the bars, looking at me with wide opened eyes. Her mouth fell agape and I could tell she was shocked, to say the least.

“Why?”

“Because you have an amazing gift, Y/N. And I would like you to stay where it will be appreciated. And I can guarantee it will,” I assured her, nodding when I finished and her smile widened. It was a beautiful sight and I made a note to make her smile more often.

“So, what say you?”

“I say yes” she said quietly and I slid my hand between the bars and reached for hers. Y/N hesitated before her fingers graced mine and our hands connected in a tight hold.

And at that moment nothing meant more than Y/N’s happiness.


End file.
